Stepping Up
by titanialennox
Summary: Burt is still the same loving and supportive Dad from the show, but he's also a very strict disciplinarian. And when Kurt misbehaves, disobeys, or puts himself in danger, he gets a serious spanking that doesn't end until he's in tears. Afterward, all is forgiven, and Burt never withholds affection.
1. Prologue

**Stepping Up**

_Prologue_

From the moment Kurt was born, Burt knew he'd lay down in front of a semi-truck for the kid. He'd never forget getting that first glimpse of his baby boy. Nor would he forget taking him from Elizabeth's tired arms and walking him around the room as the nurses tended to his beloved wife. He'd whispered so many promises to Kurt that night. He promised to always love him, always protect him, always provide for him, and always be there for him. In short, he promised to be the perfect father.

Eight years later, and he'd kept those promises. But as he took his little boy's hand and led him away from his mother's funeral, he began to have doubts. Being a father had been hard enough, how in the world would he be both father and mother to his kid?

But like any difficult thing you think you won't be able to do, you've just got to grit your teeth and dive right in. And that is exactly what Burt did. He got Kurt up in the morning, fed him breakfast, got him to the bus stop on time with a packed lunch, heck, he even helped him with his homework. (At least he tried)

Those first few months after Elizabeth's death were all about survival. Taking each day as it came. If Kurt was fed, clothed, and keeping up in school, Burt figured things were going well. And for awhile, that worked. Burt didn't even have to think about what to do if Kurt stepped out of line because the kid was too grieved to even consider pushing boundaries. But then Kurt bounced back, as kids tend to do, and push those boundaries he did.

It started small. Kurt refused to do the dishes one night, Burt excused the behavior as over-exhaustion and simply did them himself. For Burt it was no big deal, "If this is the worst I'm seeing out of the kid them I'm doing a pretty good job," he thought. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Dishgate, as he'd later come to think of that night, was only the beginning

The next morning, Kurt didn't want to eat his oatmeal. A few well-placed cutting remarks from his angel about the oatmeal's consistency/taste and Burt found himself counting to 10, taking a deep breath, and counting to 10 again. Later that same day at the shop, Burt stuck his head into the employee lounge expecting to see Kurt studying his spelling words. But Kurt was nowhere to be found. After 20 minutes of frantic searching, he found Kurt making a decorative mobile (complete with glitter glue) out of the spark plugs his mechanic, Mike, had laid out for a job that afternoon.

"Kurt, what do you think you're doing? You know you're not allowed to handle parts you find around the shop. Let alone use them for some arts and crafts project," Burt said attempting to keep his cool.

"Whatever, Dad. This is so not a big deal. I only used 4 spark plugs. Mike can just go and grab 4 more from the box in the back hallway. A new shipment came in this morning, I saw the delivery guy drop it off. Now go away; I need to concentrate. I gotta to add a bit more glue to the top left corner, it's not catching the light the way it should." And with a casual wave of his hand Kurt turned back to his work.

Mike, who was standing just a few feet away, kept himself quiet as he watched the scene before him unfold. It was hard work keeping the look of shock off of his face. If, at 9, he'd spoken to his father in that dismissive tone, he wouldn't have been sitting down for a week. Heck, if he spoke to his father that way now, he was sure the conversation wouldn't end well.

Burt was at a loss. He simply couldn't believe that his son was acting so disrespectfully. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't ignore this kind of behavior.

"Kurt," Burt said firmly.

Kurt reluctantly turned and looked at his father in a most exasperated way.

"Kurt, you are going to apologize to Mike this instant for interrupting his work. Then you are going to put that glitter glue away, get your school stuff from the lounge, and go wait in the car for me. We are going home now."

"Dad, I..."

But Burt cut him off before he could utter a single protestation.

"Young man, you will do what I say this instant without any backtalk."

Had he just called his son "young man?" Where had that come from? And when had he become his father? Burt pushed those ideas out of his mind, and left Kurt to his apologies while he went to find Jerry, the assistant manager. Jerry agreed to close up that night, and in less then 5 minutes time he was driving his sulky son home. The drive home would, hopefully, give him time to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do.

As he drove, hearing nothing more then the occasional dramatic sigh from the backseat, he couldn't help but think of his father. What would his father do in a situation like this? That was easy. His old man hadn't tolerated disrespect, it was a simple as that. If Burt had spoken to his father the way Kurt just spoke to him, he'd have earned himself a trip out to the garage and he'd have eaten his dinner standing up that night.

But Burt wasn't sure he could do something like that to his son. When he and Elizabeth had sat down to talk about parenting, they'd both agreed to do things differently then their parents had. They both wanted there to be more hugs and fewer harsh words. And they'd stuck to that. More importantly, they'd been a team. They'd worked together to raise their son. Now, But was alone, and he knew the way he chose to handle today's poor behavior would define him as a single parent.

All too soon, he was pulling his car into the driveway. He and Kurt got out, walked up and through the front door, and then they were standing awkwardly in the front hallway. After a few tense moments, Burt sighed, he'd made his decision. He told Kurt to go and have a seat on the living room couch.

"Kurt," Burt began, sitting beside his son, "I'd like to tell you a story."

Kurt looked up at him, confusion written across his face. "Is this my punishment?" Kurt thought.

"When I was your age, I started to test the limits your grandparents set for me. I started complaining about my chores, stomping my feet, rolling my eyes, dramatically sighing whenever I was asked to help out, things like that. You're grandparents, for whatever reason, decided to ignore my annoying little behaviors at first. I guess they thought I was trying to get attention. In a way, I suppose I was. More then anything, though, I wanted to see what I could get away with."

"Really, Dad? Cause Gramps doesn't seem like the kind of guy that you'd want to mess with."

"To true, but don't interrupt me. I'm the one telling this story, okay?"

Kurt signed, "Okay."

"So, I went on doing little things and they went on ignoring them. Then one day, I remember it was a Saturday, I decided to put off my chores that morning so I could watch cartoons. Then, after lunch, I was settling in to watch the Buckeyes play UofM and your grandma stuck her head into the living room to remind me to go and rake the leaves out front. I told her I'd do it later and she said that I'd given her that excuse that morning and that it no longer worked with her. "

Burt shifted a bit in his seat before continuing. He knew that for this story to be effective he had to tell the whole thing, even the uncomfortable parts.

"I really wanted to watch the game so, at first, I simply ignored her. When she repeated herself, I got mad. I started yelling back and saying all sorts of disrespectful things but I ended my little tirade by calling her a bitch."

"You did what?" Kurt asked. He was shocked. He'd only ever heard his father swear once, and that was when some psycho almost cut them off in traffic. He couldn't believe his Dad had called his grams that word.

"I did just like I said, Kurt. I'm not proud of it, but that's what happened. Now your grandfather happened to have come into the house to hear the tail end of my bratty rant, including the cursing at the very end. As you might imagine, he was none to pleased by my behavior. He took me by the arm and led me outside. He gave me his pocket knife and told me to go and cut a switch from our hickory tree. Do you know what a switch is?"

"No," Kurt said shaking his head slightly.

"It's a thin bendy branch with the offshoots cut off. It's usually about this long." Burt held his arms out from his shoulders to demonstrate. "And about this thick." He formed a small circle with his thumb and pointer finger for Kurt to see.

"What'd he do after that, Dad?" Kurt asked nervously. Kurt may have been a modern child, but he'd watched plenty of episodes of Little House on the Prairie with his mom. So he strongly suspected just where this story was headed.

"Once I'd stripped the branch of any offshoots, I handed it to my father and followed him to our garage. There he made it abundantly clear that I was never to speak to your grandmother in such a disrespectful way ever again. He also made it clear that both he and your grandmother expected me to be both respectful and obedient and that they'd no longer be ignoring my antics."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, he gave me a little time to compose myself, and then I had to go rake the front yard."

"You still had to do your chores?" Kurt asked. He was shocked.

"Yes, Kurt. My chores weren't a punishment, they were my responsibility to complete. I'd chosen not to do them that morning so I had no choice but to complete them in the afternoon. I remember I got back inside to catch the end of the 4th quarter. Then that night at supper, which I ate supper standing up, your grandmother had made meatloaf and mashed potatoes."

"Your favorite," Kurt chimed in.

"Yep, it was her way of saying I was forgiven. Just like your grandfather watched the end of the game and the postgame commentary was his way of saying it. I never liked it when your grandfather spanked me, he's a big guy and those spankings always hurt, but I did like that once they were over I had a clean slate. Your grandparents aren't the sort of people who hold grudges. I have always admired them for that."

When Burt had finished telling his story, he sat back and was quiet. He wanted Kurt to break the silence. After a few minutes, he did.

"Dad, why did you tell me that story?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Why do you think I told you that story?" Burt countered.

"Um," Kurt took in a slow breath and shifted his gaze towards his shoes, "because I was bad at the shop today."

Burt instantly put his arm around his son's small shoulder, pulling him in for a side hug. "You are not bad. Kurt, look at me."

Kurt did. And as he did Burt saw that there were tears starting to fill his son's eyes.

"Kurt, you are a good kid. You may do bad things from time to time, but you are not bad. Do you understand me?"

Slowly, Kurt nodded and Burt pulled his son close and let his son cry sloppily into his shoulder. After a few moments, Kurt pulled away and looked up at his father once more.

"Dad?"

"Yes, kiddo?"

"Are you going to spank me?"

Burt looked directly into Kurt's eyes for a long moment and then said, "Yes. I don't want to, God knows I don't want to, but yes I am."

This pronouncement set Kurt into a fresh round of sobs. When Kurt finally pulled his tear-stained face away, Burt's left shirt sleeve was a snotty mess.

"Okay, buddy, let's get this over with." With that he helped Kurt get to his feet, took his small hand, and let him outside into their backyard.

They didn't have any hickory trees but Burt soon found a suitable substitute. Finding the branch itself, was another matter all together. Even in this, choosing the instrument for his own chastisement, Kurt was a perfectionist. He wanted to find a branch that matched his father's description exactly. At first, Burt thought he was simply stalling. But then he realized that doing anything half-way just wasn't in his son's nature.

When, at last, the perfect switch had been found, Burt led a now trembling Kurt back into the house. He brought Kurt into the kitchen, pulled one of the kitchen chairs away from the table, and sat himself down facing his son almost at eye-level.

"Kurt, why are you getting this spanking?" Burt inquired calmly. The calm in his voice was an act. In reality, Burt was absolutely terrified, but Kurt couldn't know that. Burt knew that he needed to man up if he was going to get through the next few minutes.

Kurt took a deep breath and then replied, "I was disrespectful to you at work today, and I took things that didn't belong to me." The entirety of this little speech was spoken directly to his shoes. Kurt couldn't bring himself to look at his father. Afraid he'd see disappointment in those familiar eyes.

That sounded about right to Burt. Eager to get this whole affair over with as quickly as possible he began to pull his son closer to his waiting lap while uttering that time-tested parental cliché, "Son, this is going to hurt me far more then it hurts you."

Afterwards, Burt pulled his son into his lap and Kurt once again found himself sobbing into his father's left shoulder. Burt was sure his shirt was going to morph into one gigantic ball of snot, but he didn't care. All that mattered to him at the moment was making sure that Kurt knew just how much he loved him. He hugged his son even closer to his chest and lovingly rubbed his back. As he rubbed small circles into Kurt's back he said, "It's okay sweetie, it's all over. You're forgiven. I love you."

Kurt raised his tear-stained face to meet his father's and managed a weak smile. That was what he wanted to hear most of all.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Author's Note: I am not profiting in any way from this story. The characters included are the property of 20th Century Fox and Ryan Murphy. There is no copyright infringement intended.

"Why is it so hard for you to understand? I don't want to get dressed in front of you... I just...I just don't want to have to worry about that stuff in my own room," Finn struggled to explain, his temper rising.

"And what stuff are you referring to?" Kurt asked, now rather on edge himself.

"You know, you know what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb," Finn insisted.

And the truth was, Kurt did know. Not in the way that Finn thought, though. Kurt had long ago given up hope that Finn would ever return his affections. Finn was as straight as a ruler, and Kurt had accepted that fact. But his crush, his ridiculous crush had refused to die away, even when he viewed the situation logically. So no, Kurt hadn't been checking Finn out as he got dressed each morning, or staring at him as he slept, and his offering of the moist-towellette had been a simple gesture of kindness, nothing more. But Finn didn't know that Kurt had set their parents up, had orchestrated their whole geriatric romance, just so that he, Kurt, would get to spend more time with him outside of school. So while Finn's outburst was ill-timed and illogical, Kurt knew that Finn had a right to be upset with him. But what happened next, that rocked Kurt to his core.

"It's just a room Finn! We can decorate it if you want to." Kurt shouted, hoping to placate Finn and talk him out of his anger.

"Okay, good, well then the first thing that needs to go is that faggy lamp. And then we can get rid of this faggy couch cover..." Finn ranted, picking the cover up and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

"Hey!" Burt shouted, "What'd you just call him?"

"Oh no," Finn backpedaled quickly, "I was just talking about the blanket."

"You use that word," Burt began moving steadily closer to Finn as he spoke, "you use that word then you're talking about him."

The rest of the scene played itself out before Kurt's eyes, but he'd checked out. There was his father, his wonderful father, standing up for him, defending him without even knowing what had led up to Finn's outburst. For the briefest of moments, Kurt felt so loved and cared for that he thought his heart would burst. Then, an instant later, his heart plummeted as Burt told Finn he'd have to leave.

"I love your mom, and maybe this is going to cost me her, but my family comes first."

That's what his father had said. With that, Finn had left, and his Dad, after offering words of encouragement and a pat on the shoulder, had left as well. Kurt stood for a few moments stock still, too stunned to do much more then breathe. Then he collapsed on the nearby chaise and sobbed. He wasn't sure how much time passed before he got a handle on his tears. The light streaming down from his window seemed somewhat muted, so he figured it was at least 6. It was time to go upstairs and start dinner. Staring down at the arm of the chaise, spotting the rather large snot stain Kurt let out a harsh laugh and said, "I guess I won't be returning that."

After splashing cold water on his face, Kurt slowly ascended the stairs and headed for his kitchen. He needed this, needed the comfort of his routine. He knew that while he cooked on autopilot he'd be able to replay the events of that afternoon, make some sense of all that had happened. His feelings and his thoughts were all still too jumbled up. But when Kurt got to the kitchen he saw his father on the phone and heard him ordering Chinese food.

When the call had ended, Burt put down the phone and said, "I figured you'd be too tired to make dinner, and I know I am so I thought this would be the best thing for both of us. What to come along with me and pick it up?"

"That's okay, Dad. I'm going to get started on my homework now. I'll be sure and have the table set before you get back."

"I know you will, kiddo," Burt said, rubbing Kurt's shoulder affectionately. "I know I can always count on you."

With that, he turned and headed out to the garage. Kurt heard the roar of the engine, and a slowly muffled rumble as his dad's pickup pulled out of the driveway. Knowing that he was alone, Kurt sank into the nearest chair, lay his head flat on the kitchen table, and began to sob once more. But this time, he knew exactly why he was crying.

Kurt Hummel knew that these fresh tears, they were tears of guilt. Not over what had happened in the basement that afternoon, at least not exactly over that specifically. Kurt knew that, while Finn was a good guy, he'd said terrible things. Things that were inexcusable. Things that could not be forgotten or ignored. His Dad had jumped to his defense, and rightly so. But the event that had led up to Finn's outburst, that had led up to Finn and Carol moving in with them in the first place, that what was what had Kurt so upset now. He had lied to, and manipulated, his father. The man who never failed to love and support him, the man who'd just given up the first woman to love him since Kurt's mom died eight years earlier, that was the man Kurt had lied to and the guilt over that transgression was eating him up inside.

When the tears once again subsided, Kurt got up and started to pace around the kitchen. He knew there was only one way to rid himself of his guilt. He needed to come clean to his dad. As soon as his dad returned, he'd confess everything and beg for his forgiveness. He'd take any punishment his dad chose to meet out. He'd give up his cell phone, his car, his clothing allowance, glee club, just about anything that brought happiness into his life if only it would make things right again. But no, Kurt thought as he continued to pace the room, that wasn't the way his father handled things. He didn't believe in dragging punishments out over long periods of time. With Burt, it was always quick and to the point. Punishments were to be gotten over with so that Kurt could be quickly forgiven, and they could both move on with their lives. "No dessert for you tonight, mister. You can forget about that Audrey Hepburn marathon this Saturday." Or, worst of all. "Go outside and cut a switch."

Kurt knew that it was the latter, and most dreaded, punishment that he'd most likely be facing for something like this. But even a switching at his father's hands didn't seem like punishment enough. His Dad rarely spanked him anymore, the last time had been at the beginning of the year when he'd gotten drunk at school and thrown up on Miss Pillsbury. Kurt had to laugh just a little at that memory. Man, had that been a stupid thing to do. It had also been absolutely humiliating at the time, but now, it was just a bit funny. The look on her face, which he amazingly remembered despite just how intoxicated he'd been at the time, that had been comic gold. But back to the matter at hand. Burt had switched him for doing something foolish and dangerous. Kurt felt, and he was sure his dad would feel the same way, that deception and manipulation were worse then piss-poor teenage judgment. That's what his dad had called the incident with alcohol and his guidance counselor's shoes, piss-poor teenage judgment.

Kurt sank back down into the nearby chair. He was sure that the deception he'd perpetrated was worse, so what was his dad going to do? It was at that moment, as Kurt contemplated potential horrors, that he remembered one of his father's stories. When his father was a teenager, he hadn't been the best student. His parents, Kurt's grandparents, had known that about their son so rather then expecting all A's, they simply expected him to do his best. Kurt's dad had told him that he'd struggled the most in math back then. So much so, that his parents decided to hire a tutor. Each Wednesday they gave Burt money and he was to meet with his tutor that day after school. Burt had said that he'd gone to the tutor, twice, before deciding that the whole thing was a colossal waste of time and money. But rather then tell his parents that, for he knew they wouldn't agree, he took the money each week and went to the arcade instead. His actions went undetected until his parents received his next report card. His grade in math had dropped, and when confronted with this fact Burt quickly confessed his crimes. His parents had been none too pleased, of course, but this was the part of the story that Kurt remember most. His gramps had said that what upset him most, more then the theft and arcade visits, was his son's deception. He'd said that the worst thing Burt could ever do was lie to him. Burt had then turned to Kurt, they'd been sitting on the couch at the time, and said he agreed with his father. That, if nothing else, he expected Kurt to always tell him the truth.

"What did gramps do to you, dad?" Kurt had asked at the time.

"He took his belt to me."

Kurt had gasped at that.

"It was the worst punishment my old man ever dished out, but I never forgot it. I never lied to him or your grams ever again. No matter what I did, I always told them the truth. I'd like you to promise me something, Kurt. Promise me that, no matter what, you'll always tell me the truth."

"Of course, daddy. I promise."

Now, Kurt had been eight at the time, and would have promised to build his father a bedazzled rocketship if he'd asked for one. But still, over the years, he'd always been honest with his dad. And, for his part, his dad had always extended him the same courtesy. He was always telling Kurt that honesty was a two-way street. Yes, "Be Honest, Tell the Truth" Kurt had grown up with these mantras. And that explained why he felt so guilty now.

And now the time for self-reflection was over. Kurt rose, on shaky legs, and climbed the stairs to his father's room. Once there, he crossed the floor to his father's closet, opened it, and took out an old, cracked, wide leather belt. He then carried it back downstairs and laid it out on the kitchen table, in plain sight. He said back down and sighed heavily. Now all he had to do was wait. And he didn't have to wait long. Because just as he settled back down in that chair he heard the familiar rumble of his father's truck and saw its headlights pass along the kitchen wall. His father was home.

Burt Hummel returned home in a far better mood then when he'd left. The drive had given him time to clear his head and the smell of Chinese food had never failed to bring a smile to his face, even at the very worst of times. But as he entered his kitchen and took in the scene before him, his mood shifted again. This time, to one of confusion. He saw his son seated at the kitchen table. A table which, despite a promise made to him just before he left by said son, was not set for dinner. Instead, he saw one of his old belts laying on it. Also, Kurt didn't turn around or greet him as he entered. He sat still as a statue and mute, eyes apparently fixed on the far wall.

"Hey, Kurt, I'm home."

He got no reply. So he moved forward into the kitchen until he'd reached the other side of the table and was able to see Kurt's face. Even though he was standing practically in front of his son, Kurt was still managing to avoid his gaze.

"Kurt, buddy, is everything okay?"

All at once Kurt blurted out, "Iliedtoyoudad."

"Whoa, Kurt, slow down bud, I didn't catch that." As he spoke, pulled a chair up close to his now trembling son and sat down.

"I lied to you, dad," Kurt said dropping his gaze to the table. "When I introduced you to Carol, it wasn't a random chance encounter. I'd been planning it. I wanted you to date her..."before he launched into this next bit he drew in a long deep breath "so that I could spend more time with her son, who I've had a crush on all year."

There, the truth was out.

The kitchen filled with an uncomfortable silence in the aftermath of Kurt's confession. Burt was struggling to find the right words, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to look up from the table, let alone say anything more. Finally, Burt broke the silence.

"So, you've had a crush on Finn this year?"

"Yes," Kurt responded in barely more than a whisper.

"So, that stuff he said down in your room, it was because you liked him...in that way?"

"Kinda"

"What do you mean by kinda?"

"Well, he was upset. Worried that I was going to come onto him or try and check him out or something and that made him angry. I wasn't!" Kurt quickly added. "I don't like him like that anymore, and even if I still did, I'd never do that. I just liked the idea of spending more time with him as a friend. But I didn't get a chance to tell him that."

"Okay, so it sounds like you and Finn have some stuff to work out. Maybe later I'll invite he and Carol over and you two can clear the air a bit."

"That sounds good, dad."

"But, before we talk anymore about Finn, I want to get back to what you said about Carol and me. It sounds to me like you're saying that you lied to me initially, and manipulated both Carol and myself so that you could spend more time with Finn. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes"

"Well, Kurt," Burt sighed before continuing, " I'm going to be real honest with you. I am not happy about this. You know how I feel about deception and you being manipulative."

"Yes, sir, I do."

"But Kurt," and here he put his arm around his son's thin shoulders and squeezed them tightly, " it hurts me to think that you could react this way to telling me something. You're literally shaking. Are you really so afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you exactly, more of your reaction. That you might hate me for what I did." Kurt confessed still with his eyes fixed on the kitchen table.

"Kurt, look at me please." Reluctantly, Kurt did. What he saw in his father's eyes was nothing but love. "I don't ever want you to be afraid to tell me something. Nothing you do, nothing! You got that? Nothing, will ever EVER make me stop loving you." With that he pulled his son into a full hug.

When finally Kurt pulled a way, sniffling as he did so, Burt said, "Now, we still need to deal with the lying and manipulation. You know where I stand on both of those. I assume that's why you've put my old belt on the kitchen table." Kurt nodded.

"Okay, I want you to sit here and think for a bit over what you've done wrong. Then, when you're ready, come into the living room."

With that pronouncement Burt rose from his seat, laid a hand on his son's shoulder, gave it a final comforting squeeze, turned to pick the belt up off the table, and left the kitchen without another word.

Kurt took in and let out several shaky breaths, trying to get his emotions under control. He could do this, he told himself. It was just a few minutes pain and then it'd all be over and done with. He was a Hummel after all, and Hummels weren't afraid of anything. Okay, that was a total lie. Kurt was afraid of plenty of things. Sue Sylvester, the possibility of Rachel Berry reproducing, Grey's Anatomy being canceled, acne, the list went on and on. And he knew for a fact that his father, his big tough father, was terrified of spiders. Kurt couldn't count the number of times he'd been called into some obscure corner of the house to crush a spider using the heel of one of his fabulous boots. So, maybe the Hummels weren't fearless, but Kurt still wanted to prove to his father that he could do this. That he was man enough to stand up to the very worst punishment he could dish out. Yes, he could do this. With that final thought, Kurt rose from his seat, schooled his face into what he hoped was a brave expression, and made his way into the living room.

His dad was standing just to the side of their old couch holding the belt, doubled over, in his right hand. Kurt couldn't help but notice that his dad had rolled up his right sleeve. So his dad wasn't going to go easy on him. That was fine, just fine. And with that thought Kurt felt his eyes well up with tears. Dammit! He cursed internally. I am not going to cry, like a baby, before this even gets started. No, I'm going to take this like a man. Or, at least, I'm going to start this like a man. "Man up" became his mantra as he made his way over to the arm of the couch. There, he turned his back to his father, and began to undo his pants. Making surprisingly quick work of the button and fly, he proceeded to shove them down to his ankles. Then, taking one final calming breath, he (seemingly in one motion) lowered his boxers down to join his pants and all but threw himself over the arm of the couch. Then he stretched his hands out, making sure he had a firm grip on both sides of the couch cushion. With everything in place, he closed his eyes and waited. Waited for the first strike to fall. Waiting like this, bent over and bare, was the absolute worst thing Kurt could possibly imagine. He felt his butt tense and relax over and over again in anticipation. He hated that feeling. Kurt sometimes thought that the waiting was worse them the punishment itself. Tonight, though, his opinion might change. Suddenly a sharp whistle cut through the air, interrupting Kurt's inner monologue on the expectation of pain, and then Kurt felt it, the terrible pain as the belt struck his pale skin for the first time.

As the leather cut into the center of his ass, it was all Kurt could do not to cry out. Not to start begging and pleading right then and there, at the very beginning. The pain was intense, as sharp as a strike from a switch, but wider so that more of his ass throbbed from that one stroke, then would have after three from the switch. Just as Kurt started to get his breathing under control again, he heard that telltale whistle and felt a new line of fire strike across his ass, just above the first strike. At that, Kurt let out a pained gasp. This was going to be harder then he thought.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

That third one fell just below the first. Creating perfectly parallel lines in the center of his butt. Now the burning and throbbing was getting to be too much. Kurt wasn't sure he could stay silent much longer.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

The fourth fell just above and slightly on top of the second, and with that Kurt cried out. Screw stoicism, he thought. This hurt like hell!

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Ahhhh!" Kurt cried out. The fifth stroke had fallen just below the third, igniting the not yet extinguished fire.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

The strokes were falling faster now, or Kurt was so distraught by the pain that it just seemed that way. He couldn't have told you where that sixth stroke fell, it was just adding more fuel to the flames.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Please, dad, please!" Kurt cried as he started to squirm.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Kurt, put your hand back."

Kurt meekly, returned his hand to the cushion, attempting to reestablish his iron grip, but uncertain if it would last for long.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Dad, please! I'm sorry! So sorry!"

WHISTLE, CRACK!

Kurt began to squirm just a bit. Anything to lessen the pain. It felt as though his entire ass was on fire. He wouldn't have been surprised to turn round and see actual flames emanating from his throbbing cheeks.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Yeoooooooowwwww!" That last blow landed on the junction between Kurt's ass and thighs. It released a fresh set of sobs as he lay limp across the arm of the couch.

WHISTLE, CRACK!

"Sorry, daddy, sorry!" That stroke again fell on the junction of ass and thigh and it was all Kurt could do not to throw both his hands back, let them take the heat for awhile. Instead, he contented himself to sob, and sob, and sob. So caught up in this fresh wave of crying was Kurt, that for a few minutes he failed to notice the relative silence of the rest of the room. No telltale whistle, and his ass, while throbbing, hadn't felt any fresh strikes. Still crying rather impressively, Kurt managed to let out a small sigh of relief. It was over.

For a few moments, Kurt just lay there. It took awhile to get his sobs under control, and longer still to get his breathing back to normal. When at last he felt that he'd composed himself, he slowly stood up and (with as much dignity as he could muster) painstakingly pulled up his boxers. Though, it is hard to look dignified as you slowly pull your underwear out and over your tender butt before gently releasing the elastic band. Now that he was decent, he turned to face his father. What he saw surprised him. His father was crying. Kurt, after stepping out of his pants, quickly rushed his father and engulfed him in a tight hug.

"It's okay, Dad, I'm okay," Kurt reassured as he reached back to rub his father's back.

"Shouldn't I be the one comforting you, kiddo?"

Kurt laughed at that, "I think you've done enough to me for one day."

"Point taken, smart aleck, but Kurt, I need to be sure that you're okay. I know your hurting right now on the outside, but are you feeling okay in here." With that Burt reached out a hand and laid it across his son's heart. The gesture brought a fresh set of tears to his son's red-rimmed eyes. His dad may have just burned his butt, but he still loved him to pieces. "You know I only punish you because I love you, right? I love you so much I'm willing to turn myself into a blubbery mess, if that's what it takes to get through to you. I'm afraid you come from a long line of hard-headed men."

"Too bad they weren't hard-assed as well," Kurt bemoaned, wincing as he gently rubbed his sore behind.

"Sounds to me like you'll make a full recovery," Burt said as he turned away, deftly wiping his eyes. "How about we go and heat up that Chinese food and then give Carol and Finn a call?"

"Sounds good, I'm just going to down to my room and change into something more comfortable. I wonder if Tim Gun could make me a pair bubblewrap pants..."

With that, Kurt gave his father a final quick hug, and descended the stairs to his room.

Burt took the few moments Kurt was gone to finish pulling himself together. That punishment had been, without a doubt, the worst one he'd had to administer. He was glad that Kurt didn't seem to hold it against him, but he knew he'd have a tough time forgetting how his son screamed and cried as the belt bit into his tender flesh. Burt understood, now more then ever, why so many of his buddies said they simply couldn't bring themselves to spank their kids. Having to cause your kid pain, any kind of pain, sucked. But, Burt reasoned, Kurt would be a better man because he'd grown up with this kind of discipline. Burt was certain of that. With that final thought, he headed into the kitchen to see just how cold their Chinese takeout had gotten. His old belt had been tossed unceremoniously to the floor just seconds after Burt used it to administer the final stroke. He had no desire to pick the thing up at the moment, so on the living room floor it would remain. At least for the time being.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Taking careful strides, Kurt made his way down the stairs to his room. He knew if he stayed in his room too long his father would worry, so he resolved to quickly wash his face and change into something more comfortable before heading back upstairs for dinner. But as he stood before his mirror, weighing the pros and cons of breaking out his secret stash of OSU sweats, another thought struck him. All of a sudden, he found himself consumed with the desire to see the marks his father's belt had left on his skin. This was an odd thought because Kurt had been spanked before, and he'd never been all that curious as to what his ass looked like afterwords. He cared more about making the pain stop or at least lessen than for inspecting its root cause. But now, now he wanted to see. He'd survived the worst of the worst, as punishments go, and he realized that he thought of those marks as badges of honor.

So he, very carefully, removed his pants, folded them, and placed them neatly on the bed. Then he turned round so that his back faced his full length mirror. Then he gently lowered his boxers down to his lower thighs and gazed over his shoulder into the mirror. What he saw made him gasp in surprise. Red angry welts covered his backside from the rounded curve on top to just below where his ass met his thighs. Slowly he reached his free hand down to touch one of the welts. Even the slightest amount of pressure hurt, but Kurt was so fascinated by the feel of it that he just couldn't pull his hand away. His skin was hot to the touch and the welt itself was raised and rough. He couldn't believe that something as simple as strip of leather could so dramatically change the look and texture of his skin. Still captivated by his "war wounds" Kurt moved his hand lower to do a thorough inspection of the others. When he was done and he'd successfully returned his boxers to their rightful place, Kurt wasted no time in changing into sweats and popping into his bathroom and making his face look relatively normal once more.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found that his father had re-heated their dinner, set the table, and even thought to place a pillow on Kurt's chair. Kurt was grateful for this gesture as sitting on a hardwood straight-backed chair did not top his current list of most desirable activities.

Dinner began pleasantly enough. Burt was making quite an effort to keep things light. He told a few funny stories from the shop and encouraged Kurt to talk about the crazy theatrical outfits he and his fellow glee clubbers had been donning that week.

"You're serious? And even the kid in the wheelchair was wearing platform heels?" Burt asked while chuckling.

"Yes, their homage to _Kiss_ was impressive, if somewhat misguided. It would be impossible to accuse them of being inauthentic," Kurt conceded.

"Your glee teacher sure has some wacky notions of what makes a good music lesson, I'll give him that. Now, Kurt, while you were downstairs I gave Carol a call," Burt said, deftly changing the subject.

"Oh? What'd you two talk about?" Kurt asked. Trying to affect a casual tone.

"I didn't want to go into details over the phone, and I figured you'd want to talk to her a bit yourself. So I just said that I thought it'd be a good idea to get together and clear the air. She agreed, and she and Finn will be here in about half an hour. Is that okay with you?"

Kurt nodded but took awhile before answering aloud.

"I know you did the right thing, Dad, calling Carol. I'm just nervous, though, about talking to her, telling her what I did. I like Carol, and I don't want her to think less of me... I don't want her to hate me." Kurt said this last bit in an almost whisper.

"Kurt, Carol is a compassionate, forgiving woman. Hell, she raised Finn. You think that kid never screwed up? He's best friends with Noah Puckerman for goodness sake, it's a miracle that woman has any hair left on her head for all the stress those two must have caused her over the years. Seriously, though, as long as you're honest and give the truth to her straight, I think she'll understand," Burt reassured.

"And, Finn's coming too?" Kurt inquired.

"Yeah, and Kurt, I don't want you to think I'm going back on anything I said down in your room earlier. That kind of hateful language will never be allowed in our house. I don't know if I can forgive Finn for what he said, at least not tonight. And I don't expect you to either. But as much as I do think you two need to talk, I'm not going to make you. If you're not ready, he can just sit at the table by himself and eat cake while the rest of us talk, okay?" Burt asked, looking his son directly in the eye.

"Careful, Dad, Finn shouldn't be left alone with a whole cake. He won't leave any for the rest of us!" Kurt joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Fair enough, that boy certainly can put food away. But you didn't answer my question. Do you think you're up to talking with Finn tonight?" Burt asked.

Kurt sighed, "Yeah, but is it okay if we talk down in my room? It's going to be hard enough telling Carol that I've been crushing on her son without Finn standing right there."

"That sounds fine. But, remember, you can still change your mind. If you don't want to talk to Finn, you don't have to." Burt assured.

"I know, Dad, but I feel like this is something I need to do. I won't be able to sleep tonight until this is all straightened out." Kurt insisted.

"Good man," Burt said simply.

After that, the rest of their dinner passed easily enough. And before either of them knew it, Carol was ringing the doorbell. Burt insisted on letting them in while Kurt took the dishes to the sink. He wanted to give his son a moment to compose himself. As Burt ushered Carol into the living room, the two fell into each other's arms for a quick embrace. It was clear that, despite all that had happened, their feelings towards each other had not changed. Carol eventually broke away from Burt's embrace to address her son, "Finn, why don't you go downstairs and gather your things from Kurt's room."

"Yes, ma'am," Finn responded meekly, eyes downcast. With that, the tall boy turned away from the adults and quickly headed downstairs. Had Kurt been paying any sort of attention to Finn's departure, he'd have noticed that Finn's normally loping gate was a bit stilted. It looked almost as if the quarterback was limping. But, of course, Kurt was far too concerned with his own problems to pay his former crush and teammate any undue attention. He'd long since finished washing the dishes and knew his presence was wanted in the living room. So he made his way in there, concentrating on making each of his steps seem as unencumbered as possible. At his age, the thought of anyone finding out his father still spanked him was absolutely mortifying.

Seeing Kurt make his way into the living room, Burt thought he'd better start things off."Hey, Hon, Kurt's got something he'd like to share with you, don't you son?"

"Oh, sweetie!" Carol said as she stepped forward and pulled Kurt into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry for what Finn said this afternoon. I know this won't make things any better, but I do know that he didn't mean it. Finn's a good boy, he just does such stupid things sometimes. Not that that's any sort of excuse..." Carol was beginning to ramble and Kurt felt the need to cut her off.

"I know, Carol. I, uh, could you sit down? There's, um, something you should know." Kurt could feel himself starting to breath harder then was strictly necessary, something he did when he was nervous. His dad, sensing his son's distress, moved forward and placed a calming hand on his son's shoulder.

Kurt, sensing his father's presence, proceeded to launch into the story he'd confessed to his father earlier that evening. Carol, much to her credit, took in the whole tale without once interrupting. When he was done, Kurt reluctantly raised his eye's to meet Carol's, unsure of what he'd see in them.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Finn's a handsome boy. You've got good taste, I'll give you that," Carol declared once she was sure that Kurt had finished his story.

Kurt stood stock still, blinking in disbelief. Of all the things he'd imagined her saying to him, what she ended up saying had not made his list.

"Kurt, I'm teasing! I'd say after that revelation I'm allowed to make a joke or two at your expense, don't you think?" Carol chuckled before continuing. "Sweetie, come here, sit by me."

Kurt slowly made his way to the sofa and then, after pausing ever so briefly to contemplate the logistics of what he was about to attempt, he gingerly sat beside her trying to hide his wince. But Carol had a mother's eyes, and a mother's eyes miss nothing. She chose to act, though, as if she hadn't noticed a thing.

"Kurt, I'm not mad at you. I don't care much for being lied to, but I can't deny that things between your father and I have turned out rather nicely, whatever your original intentions. And I certainly can't fault you for having an impossible crush. Lord knows, I had a few of those back when I was in school. In fact, I seem to recall falling pretty hard for my school's quarterback when I was a freshman." At this pronouncement a dreamy expression fell over Carol's face. But she was quick to replace it with a serious one. "But, there's such a thing as taking a crush too far. I hope now you've learned what too far means, yes?"

Kurt, so shocked by how well she was handling the whole situation, could only nod his assent.

"Good, then why don't you hop downstairs and help Finn gather his things. I'd like to have a few minutes alone with your dad," Carol stated.

"Kurt, are you okay with-" Burt started to say.

But Kurt cut him off, "It's fine, Dad. I'll go help Finn." With that Kurt rose, still very slowly, and made his way downstairs, glad to have gotten that over with.

Kurt was well out of earshot when, so he missed the first part of Carol's conversation with his dad. Which went like this.

"You let him off might easy, Carol," Burt commented.

"Well, Burt, I just didn't have the heart to lay into him after you'd so thoroughly shown him the error of his ways." Carol teased.

"What?" Burt spluttered.

"Oh, come on, Burt, that boy could barely sit down, and he half hobbled his way in here from the kitchen. I'd say he's suffered enough for his crimes." Carol stated matter of factly.

"Please don't tell Kurt you figured that out. He'd be so embarrassed if he knew you knew. He'd never be able to look you in the eye again." Burt stated plainly.

"Don't worry, hon, I'm a parent of a teenage boy too, don't forget."

*****Meanwhile downstairs*****

When Kurt got downstairs, he found Finn carelessly shoving his clothing into a canvas duffel bag. Now that he was actually there, in his room again with Finn, Kurt had no idea what to say. So he just stood there, awkwardly, at the bottom of the stairs not saying anything at all. In a bizarre turn of events, Finn chose to break the silence.

"Kurt, dude, why don't you have a seat. I've got some stuff I wanna say," Finn began.

Kurt bristled a bit at being told to sit down in his own room. Besides, he had no desire to sit down again any time soon. "I'll stand thanks. You're welcome to sit though, if you want," he added more gently.

An odd pained expression briefly flitted across Finn's genial face, but it was quickly replaced with a more earnest one. "That's okay, dude, I'll stand too. Listen, Kurt, I'm like so unbelievably sorry for what I said earlier. I totally didn't mean it. I was just super stressed out over all the stuff going down at school, over all the crap the guys on the team have been giving me, leaving my house, my mom committing more to your dad, and sharing a room. It was all too much. And I just took all that out on you, which totally sucked. I'd understand if you hated me. I kinda hate myself at the moment," Finn admitted.

"I don't hate you. Frankly, I'm shocked you're speaking to me at all. What you said hurt, a lot, but, well you weren't wrong about one thing. I did have a crush on you for most of this school year. And I, uh, didn't handle it all that well. I kind of, um, well I set up my dad and Carol so that you and I would have to start hanging out more," Kurt confessed. There, the truth was finally out to everyone that needed to hear it.

"I knew it!"Finn exclaimed.

Kurt was shocked to hear that Finn didn't sound angry. "You're not mad at me?"

"Naw, I mean I was pretty pissed earlier, but not at you really, more because of all that other stuff I mentioned. I mean, "Parent-Trapping" our folks so you could spend more time with a guy you liked, that could easily be the plot of _Swim Fan 2_, but I know you didn't mean anything bad by it. Wait, you had a crush on me, as in past tense?" Finn asked.

"Yes!" Kurt had to laugh, this was going much better than he could have hoped. "One whiff of your putrid feet clogging up my airspace and I was cured. Seriously, Finn, that's why they invented _Gold Bond_!"

"Are they that bad? Is that really a turn off? Do you think girls notice stuff like that? Girls like, I don't know, Rachel, for example?" Finn asked.

Kurt just had to shake his head and laugh before gingerly sitting down on the chaise. "Yes, Finn. Girls are rather observant. The also have exception olfactory skills." Seeing Finn's confused expression Kurt continued. "That means they have a good sense of smell."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I'll try and work on that. Why'd you sit down so slowly? That couch doesn't bite, does it?" Finn teased while resuming his packing efforts.

_Crap! He noticed!_ "This is an antique, I don't want to break it." The lie itself was convincing enough but, unfortunately for Kurt, he was blushing so furiously that even Finn couldn't miss it.

"Okay, if you don't want to tell me, fine." Finn said bruskly, clearly miffed.

"Fine, I'll tell you the truth, but you can't breathe a word of what I'm about to tell you to anyone. Especially any of the kids in Glee, and that goes double for Puck." _What am I doing? _Kurt asked him self. _I must be losing my mind. _"My dad wasn't thrilled when I told him about this whole scam I pulled-"

"Wait," Finn jumped in, cutting Kurt off, "you told your dad? He didn't figure it out on his own or catch you in a lie or anything like that?"

"No, Finn, I told him. I hate lying to my dad, and after this afternoon, the way he stuck up for me, I just couldn't do it anymore."

"Wow, man, that takes balls."

"Uh, thanks, so like I was saying before, my dad wasn't thrilled. He's got rules about lying and manipulating people, and I broke them. So he, uh, punished me."

"Oh, that sucks, dude. So how long are you grounded for?"

"I'm not. My dad doesn't believe in long drawn-out punishments like that."

"Lucky! I'm grounded for a month, and that's after my mom..." Finn suddenly stopped himself from saying whatever it was he was going to say. "That means no tv, no video games, and no phone, for a whole month. Wait, so if you're dad didn't ground you, what'd he do? Do you have to work extra hours at the shop for free or something?"

Kurt couldn't believe he was really doing this. He'd never told any of his friends what he was about to tell Finn. It was just so embarrassing. "No... hespankedme."

"What? That was too fast, dude, I didn't catch what you said."

"He spanked me." Kurt said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"No way! So what, he put you over his knee and..."

But Kurt cut him off, "Finn, I'm 16 not 6!"

"Oh, of course, so how'd he um what'd he do then?" Finn asked nervously.

"He used his belt." This statement earned an audible gasp from the slack-jawed Finn. "Listen, Finn I really don't want to talk about this."

"Yeah, totally. Man, a belt. And I thought I had it rough because my mom-" again Finn cut himself off mid sentence. That had been happening a lot this evening, and Kurt was starting to formulate a theory. If he didn't know better, he'd bet that he wasn't the only McKinley High School sophomore who had an old-fashioned parent.

"Finn, is there something you want to tell me?" Kurt asked innocently.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," and Kurt decided to leave it there. His suspicions were all but confirmed anyhow. He figured Finn had had enough for one night. He did breathe a sigh of relief, confident now that Finn would never reveal his secret. What was that his American history teacher had been saying about mutually assured destruction?

**Author's Note: So, in my mind, this is the beginning of the Hudson-Hummell family dynamic. At any rate, it's much more satisfying then the quagmire we all had to sit through at the end of Season One. Please feel free to comment below. Let me know what you think! Would anyone like me to continue this story?**


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